Inside the life: Doctor Shamal
by Sorugao-BandGeek
Summary: Shamal isn't what he lets everybody see him as. So what is he really like?  oneshot collection for dear old Dr. Shamal
1. Chapter 1

**Muse: **Before I forget by Slipknot

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn**

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><p><em>'Pervert.'<em>

_'Scumbag.'_

_'Good for nothing flirt!'_

The dark haired doctor heard the comments from the few students that stayed behind school and it didn't really bother him that they saw him as such, but today of all days it irked him. He kept the frown off his face, instead keeping a straight face, with the corner of his lips barely twitching into a false smile. Really, like he would let the scorn of a couple teenagers get to him.

"Hey pervert!"

Except for one.

"Oh Hayato, what is it you want?" he scowled, eyes glaring daggers at the boy who was almost like a son. Key word almost. He took a quick breath to calm himself and turning around to look at the boy, he noticed that the Sawada and Yamamoto boy were with him. "Well? I don't really have all day, Hayato."

The bomber boy rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to begin speaking.

"Can you stay with us for a little while more? Reborn wants us to train and knowing his training methods, we will come out heavily injured."

"I'm sorry Hayato, but I'm not your personal doctor," spoke Shamal, walking up to where the boy stood. Gokudera sputtered, usually Shamal didn't really say no and he hung around to watch the boys train. He'd usually throw first aid kids at them and instruct them on how to use the materials within the small white and red box. "Now if you'll excuse, my home is calling to me." Shamal turned on his heel and began walking away, only for a single comment to stop him.

"Don't you mean a woman's bed is calling to you?" growled Gokudera.

Shamal looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed and filled with anger. A low buzzing sound could be heard and a dark amethyst color began to slowly appear around Shamal's body.

"Boy do you really wish to learn why I earned my name?" hissed Shamal, his voice low and bitter. Sawada and Yamamoto could feel the killing intent that was aimed at Gokudera, who slightly flinched at the way Shamal had addressed him.

"S-shamal-san, please calm down," uttered Tsuna, who didn't like the atmosphere that had settled among them. The usual brown eyes of Shamal, were now a lighter color, along with them mixed a red and purplish color; when Shamal averted his eyes from Gokudera's jade ones and onto his own sepia colored ones, Tsuna discovered a side of Shamal that he never thought possible. Hyper Intuition kicked in and let Tsuna know that Shamal wasn't who he let himself be. This man, he was a troubled one. One who only knew how to lock his true ways away and show others what they thought was really him. This Shamal, he was an assassin, a cold slate of stone. But above all that, this Shamal...this Shamal was _empty. _And as Tsuna continued to look into his strange colored eyes, he knew that he wouldn't see the Doctor the same way.

As soon as this had started, Shamal reverted back to the way he was before, this time a carefree smile lacing his lips, his eyes squinted shut as the smile seemed to take over his features.

"You don't want to keep Reborn waiting do you?"

With that, the Doctor turned swiftly on his heel and exited the school, with no further disturbances stopping him from reaching the safety of his abode.

The chill air, the dark clouds over head, and the sweet smell that predicted rain later on assaulted Shamal's senses – calming him and letting the ill feelings he had earlier slowly fade away from him. Though some still resided within him as he approached his home, a simple looking home from the outside, and an even simpler looking interior.

Fishing his keys out of his work bag, he opened the door hastily, closing it shut with a bit more force than usual. He let his keys fall into the small round bowl that he had on a stool by the entrance, and with a few more steps forward he was in his living room. He shrugged his bag off and let it fall beside his couch. To the left of his living room was an open view of the kitchen, which at the moment was dark and lonely looking. He walked into the kitchen, flicking on the light switch and letting the medium sized place be flooded with light.

Instead of raiding his fridge for last night's take out, he went to one of the long cupboards – opening it you could see the full and half empty bottles of all kinds of alcohol stored within the cupboard. He grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey, which he set on the counter. Lined overhead were cupboards filled with plates and glasses. Opening the one on the far right, he pulled out a reidel wine glass, a small yet stout looking cup.

Grabbing his liquor and glass, Shamal headed to his room, were he closed and locked the door. Passing by the stereo he had, he pressed the on button which brought the stereo to life and began playing some soft music; mostly instrumentals and music box versions of some songs.

He settled himself in his bed, popping open the bottle of whiskey he poured himself some, filling the cup up halfway. The drink was slightly warm as he brought it up to his lips and drank it, but it really didn't matter at the moment. He didn't really care if it was warm or cold, seeing as he himself was only thinking of drowning away in the merry fake cheeriness of a drunken stupor.

"In such a daze," he murmured, as he refilled the glass for a second drink, "To think something has finally gotten to me."

It irked him, it pissed him off, it _hurt _him that people only knew him as a pervert. It wasn't fair, they didn't know him, but that was also his fault for creating such a persona. A perverted fool, who chased after anything with a fluttering skirt. But of course if he bothered showing himself as he truly was, they would fear him, wouldn't they?

A demented man, whose heart has been broken more than he himself has broken. A man who can't understand the concept of love, a man who refuses to believe that there are right and wrong things in life; face it if he were to truly believe in right and wrong, he would be looking at a long list of wrong doings. He was truly a man to be feared, not a man you look at once and scoff at his measly appearance!

"I am a killer," he murmured out, tilting his third glass back. The dark liquid smoothly went down his throat, ended up calmly swirling in his stomach. "I am nothing more than that."

And above all that, he was a lonely, bitter man. A secret alcoholic who easily drank his sorrows away every other day.

**Time: **3:45 PM

**Number of drinks: **4 cups

(_It smells rancid in here_)

A swift kick to the cheek sent Gokudera stumbling back.

"What's wrong Gokudera? You giving up on your right to be Tsuna's right hand man?" asked Reborn, who crouched low on the ground after landing.

Gokudera snarled. He righted himself and flinging his arms out, dynamites went sailing at where Reborn was. A second later a huge explosion rocked the area; when the smoke clear there was no Reborn, but only his orange stripped fedora.

"You're being careless, you could have gotten yourself killed," murmured Reborn as he stood behind Gokudera, gun cocked and ready to fire and the hot headed boy. "Practice is over! Tomorrow we'll resume it and it won't be anymore easier than it was today," announced Reborn, who let his gun transform back into Leon, who hopped off his hand and went towards the fedora that lay on the ground.

"Pray tell what is wrong with you boys today?" asked Reborn, arms crossing against his chest. His big onyx eyes scanned each teen's features as they approached him. They looked the same as always, but there was something about them that was off.

"We had an encounter with the doctor earlier," spoke up Yamamoto, who for once wasn't smiling as usual.

"Oh?"

"He lost it on us, Reborn. He wasn't the usual Shamal," said Tsuna, who was doubled over, exhausted from the small training session.

"Oh? What is it that he did?" really Shamal losing it? That man was one of the most composed mafioso, for him to have lost it meant that he was getting fed up. Reborn frowned, but what exactly was he getting fed of? From what he knows of Shamal, the man had always been a pervert, but a great asset to many situation. If Reborn were in his adult form, even he would be wary to fight the man.

The boys stayed silent, unsure how to explain the newest development of the crazed doctor.

"..he showed us himself."

**Time: **5:46

**Bottle: **#2

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><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

I don't know much about alcohol, but what I do know is that Shamal is one and that is tolerance is _way _high. Now I know this completely sucks, but this was written (as of now) when I, the authoress, was highly emotional. Let me tell you one thing, the Shamal you see and the Shamal I see, are two completlely different people. This sort of shows my way of seeing Shamal, though not entirely because things are repeated alot. So um, yeah, I actually should send this to get this corrected, but...I want you guys to read this rough draft first.

This chapter opens up to a serious of ten one-shots, each being a flashback of the Shamal that I see. So it'll range from birth, childhood, and adulthood. The possibility that there'll will be TYL, 20YL, and 30YL shots is another thing that I'm willing to add. So hm, if you guys would kindly review so as to let me know if to continue this, then I gladly will. (Favorites and Story Alerts will probably make me think about it, but it depends on how many this chapter gets) Sorry to be this way about this.

_Sorugao-Bandgeek_


	2. Chapter 2

**Inside the life: Doctor Shamal**

**Age: Seven**

Shamal sat outside his father's quarters, knees pulled up to his chest and head leaning against the burgundy colored wall.

"_Well you know if you spent more time with him he wouldn't be like this!"_

"_What does me actually spending time with my son make any difference? The boy has been this way since he began to both walk and talk!"_

"_Lies! He used to smile so much more! He laughed, he actually acted like a child! Now – now he acts like those men of yours! He acts like a brain washed mafioso!"_

Light brown eyes stared across the wall across from him – he was dazed. Did his mother really think he was acting this way because of his father? His father had it right, his mother didn't.

The sound of heels against the wooden floor of the office alerted him that his mother was hastily making her way out – so with a sudden speed, Shamal shot up from where he sat and raced down the hallway. Since the hallway didn't end until another five doors, he stopped at the sixth door and turned around. He breathed in deeply as he saw his mother – a beautiful dark skinned woman, with bright hazel eyes, and shoulder length curly black hair – stalk out of his father's.

He slowly walked up to her, hands behind his back, his eyes wide and curious.

"Shamal what are you doing here?" he was supposed to be downstairs in the study room, waiting for his home tutor to come.

"I heard yelling."

"Marianna just wait – Shamal," his father stopped at the doorway, face surprised to see his small son just a few feet away from him.

"Shamal go downstairs to the study room," said Marianna, tone clipped and cool.

Shamal looked like he was going to say something, but he knew better. Speaking against his mother led him to having his wrists smacked or worse, being whipped with his grandfather's leather belt – something he didn't wish to experience again.

With a nod, he turned around and headed back down the deadly quiet hallway. He turned right and continued a bit further and stopped. Walking back slowly from where he came from, he stopped right at the corner, holding his breath and making sure he was well within the hallways shadow.

"_Did you see him? Hm? Did you?"_

"_Yes Marianna, I saw him," _sighed his father, who he could imagine was running a hand through his short brown hair.

"_Well then, do well to remember him then." _

The clicking of heels against the floor was heard once again and Shamal, for fear of being hit for disobeying, ran off – almost tripping down the stair case in his rush. It was a good thing his study room was moved the other day, making it two doors to the left once you stepped off the stairs. Regaining himself, he calmly walked to his room. Grasping the handle he pulled it down and pushed, letting himself into the room.

He dragged his feet as he made his way to his desk.

"_Hello Miss Romano."_

Great his tutor was here already.

"_Oh, Amato, you're here early. The boy is already in there if you wish to start your lesson." _

The door opened and in came in a young brunette, wearing a weary smile as he said a few more words to Shamal's mother. He saw his mother, over Amato's shoulder, the look in her eyes made his skin crawl, it was as if she knew that he had stayed behind and was promising him punishment. The door closed, his mother's face was gone, and only the kind tutor Amato was there.

"So today I thought we might skip over a couple lessons and instead focus on something else," said Amato as he walked up to where Shamal sat. the elder man knelt down, azure eyes looking straight into Shamal's light brown ones.

"How would you like to learn about flames?"

Shamal's eyes widened, his mouth dropped open – did Amato really say that?

"Like father can?"

Amato smiled, hand on top of Shamal's head ruffling his hair.

"Just like your father."

**Time: **1:15

**Lesson: **Summoning flames

**Objective: **Unknown

It'd been two hours since Amato had left and Shamal had found out he had both mist and storm flames – what was odd was that he was able to combine the two and produce amethyst color flames and not the separate colors of indigo and red. The seven year old had cheered brightly when he was able to produce the flames on his own, though Amato had told him to cut them off – telling him that if he were to have them linger any more his mother would suspect something.

Shamal frowned at that.

Why was his mother so against him being part of the mafia? For as long as he has been alive (seven years isn't much, but it' still enough!) he's noticed how deeply involved his family had been in mafia matters – especially when it came to dealing with the Vongola, the supposed _Godfather _of all families.

"Shamal..."

He froze at the sickly sweet sounding voice – she was drunk.

"Shamal...dear...come here..."

He couldn't disobey, he had to listen. So he slowly got off his bed and walked to up to his mother. Her hand shot out and grabbed his. The grip on she had on his wrist hurt and it didn't help when she pulled him and began dragging him down the hall way to her room.

"Disobeying me...I never! I've been raising you haven't I?" he heard her say. She stopped and pushed him against the wall, his back making a loud 'smack' sound as he hit it. Her hand wrapped around his throat, but not tight enough to choke him. "I knew you stayed behind, I knew! You think I'm stupid!" she hissed, her hazel eyes wide and crazy, her usually pretty painted mouth, pulled back into an ugly sneer.

"Misses!"

"No madam don't do that!"

The maids, they had heard the yelling, the noises. Shamal gasped, his mother's hand tightening around his throat, his feet leaving the ground as she held him up.

"Madam!"

He could feel the maids trying to swat away his mother's hands, but it did nothing, it only served for her hold on him to tighten even further. His vision, it was slowly going black, he could feel his body shaking, his hands cold and clammy. He was going to die. Tears began to fall, he didn't want to die, not yet.

"Marianna! Put him down!"

His father was here, where was he?

"Papá..."

"No! He's my son! I'll do as I wish with him!"

"You're killing him Marianna!"

Shamal didn't want to die yet. With the little strength he had left, he raised his hand and pressed it against his mother's breast, right where her heart was. He thought of something...something horrid. He felt his mother's body still, soon replaced by a sudden trembling. Her hold on him slackened and he fell with a painful thud onto the floor.

"Stop it!" screeched his mother as she doubled over, kneeling over his small, gasping body. "Stop it!"

"Cecilia pull her away, Melody take Shamal to my room," ordered Shamal's father, as he along with the maid Cecilia pulled at Marianna. It was to no avail, the woman had lost it and was holding on to Shamal as if he were her lifeline.

"Marianna snap out of it!" a slap to the face sent the woman off her knees and onto her side, her screams of horror finally stopping. She laid on her side, gasping for breath, her eyes dilated and glassy looking.

"Alphonso," murmured Marianna as her eyes slid shut.

**Time: **7:45

**Lesson: **Summoning Flames

**Objective: **- - - Void

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><p><strong>Author Notes: <strong>

So once again thank you Prince Supersharky and Azureian for reviewing – I'm glad you two liked this.

So here's a take on Shamal's childhood, on how his parents were and how he was mostly brought up by his tutor Amato (as you can see by the way they interacted). The part with Shamal having two flames and being able to combine them, well hmm, I don't know how to explain that – I'll take the Naruto path and say that flames are like chakra (although the way to gain them is a pure and utter bitch, I mean do you really need a ring?) and if you do it just the right way you can be able to combine flames (and chakra) together. So yep, that's it for me.

Any questions ask away. If you can be so kind, please review :)

_Later,_

_Sorugao-Bandgeek_


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